Themma's Escapades
by Junipertree
Summary: I know the title is lame. This is staged in the reign of the Conquerer, and it really doesn't suck that much!! Please R/R, Please!! Last chapter finally up!
1. The Convent

I have wanted for so long to do something like this. I just had the most amazing ideas, and it was like, gotta write, gotta write, gotta write. This is set in the rule of King Bardon the Conqueror, (Roald, father of Jon's dad, If he had a name then tell me and I'll change it). So now we have Themma of Mel Harbor, at her second to last year at the convent of the Mother of Mountains....

Disclaimer: I did not create any of TP's characters, but it would take me forever to list the ones I created and the ones she did, so just don't sue me.

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Themma's Escapades

Chapter 1: The Convent

The Daughters of the Goddess (nicknamed DoGs) went through the hallway, watching the girls as they stood perfectly still, ready (or not) for the daily inspection. 

"Henmann, go back to your room and clean those nails. Scrub!"

"Fringe Border, do something about your hair! We are ladies, here!"

"Mel Harbor, you look simply stunning. Keep up the good work."

If Themma hadn't heard the same praise at least a million times before, she would have snickered loudly. It wasn't for nothing that her friends called her Loozie. She used her Gift mainly for illusions, and good ones at that. She constantly pulled pranks and jokes, and though the mistresses were suspicious, they could never quite pin anything on her. After inspection they had a bit of free time, so Themma went back to her dormitory with her friends. There was Belle of Henmann, also known as Skirtz, Jereice of Black River, also known as Fingers, and Stella of Goldenlake, whom everyone called a liar. But Themma, Jereice, and Belle called her Twister, for her ability to twist the truth so much that you couldn't tell what was true and what was a lie. Jereice was called Fingers, because she could steal your teeth without you noticing if she had the mind to. Jereice had had a nanny who was a street rat when she was younger (though few enough people knew that) and taught Jereice all her thieving tricks. Belle got her nickname because of a stunt she had pulled a few years ago, when she had cut all her skirts so short, saying to the infuriated mistresses that it was "all the better to attract a husband." She had done it on a dare, and was sent to bed without dinner for a month. Her friends had brought her food, revering her as a goddess for getting away with that. 

Themma plopped on her bed, pondering.

"Hey Loozie," said Belle. I know that look on your face. What stunt are you going to pull now?"

"Well..." she said, "All the stuff we have done so far is little. I want to try something. Something big."

"Uh oh." said Jereice. "Them has one of her crazy schemes coming."

"Not a crazy scheme, THE crazy scheme. You know Mistress Dellings?"

They all nodded. Dellings was the Mistress of etiquette, and the most uptight, stiff lady in the building. "Well, you know how she's been mooning over that man who came to visit, even though she took a vow of chastity? We're going to make sure she gets that guy, here's the plan..."

Ten minutes later they were hiding around a corner, outside Dellings' empty room. Themma hid in a supply closet, which was the distance she needed to cast the illusion. First she worked on the visual, and when she was sure that she had it right, she worked on the sounds. Them could hear the snickers from her friends as she worked on the rustling of bedsheets, Dellings' giggles, and the sound of kissing. The First Daughter, Perionne, was walking past Dellings' rooms when she heard the commotion. She frowned and opened the door to a shocking scene, Dellings and the visiting man, unabashedly making love in the convent of the Mother of Mountains.

Mistress Dellings was kicked out the next day, and she seemed slightly mystified, though for the most part happy as she rode off with Roxal, her visiting man. They soon got a new etiquette Mistress, but she wasn't nearly so bad as Mistress Dellings.

Her lessons and pranks went on as usual, including sending miniature illusory dragons after the terrified cooking Mistress, Stella doing the talking as usual (Dragons! Oh, no, Mistress Ghettia, we would never do such an awful thing) Until she got a package and letter from her father. Sir Nendin of Mel Harbor had always supported Them's unladylike behavior, to a point. But he was a wishy-washy; he could never stand up to his wife, Lady Karenne. Themma opened the package with rising excitement. It contained three things, two square and one roughly cylindrical. The square packages were two books, _The Art of Etiquette _and _Cooking From the Yamani Isles._

"Why the crap did he send you junk like that?" Stella blurted.

"Junk?" Themma replied innocently. She opened the inside covers and revealed two completely different titles: _Riding for Intermediates _and _Fencing: Book One. _The last package, when unwrapped, was a sword, of good quality and fresh from the forge.

"A _sword?_" Belle squeaked. "If the DoGs find out you will be up to your eyes in embroidery until you're eighteen!

"Then they won't find out," Them reasoned.

"Can you wield it?" asked Jereice.

"Gods no. I can barely lift the damned thing, let alone use it. That's what the book is for. I can ride pretty well, and use a bow passably, but my fencing skills are enough to make a soldier cry."

So Themma practiced. And practiced. And practiced. She practiced until she was sore and tired. 

"Bah! This is impossible. I can't even get past chapter two in this stupid book!" Themma scowled her worst scowl and was about to give up entirely until she thought, _you wanted to fence, you learn to fence. Quitter. Quitter. Quitter. Quitter._ It was her new chant. Every time she tried to quit, she would repeat it in her head. Classes were hell. She was tired and cranky, and barely remembered to put up her "soft skin" illusion at inspection. But she lived. She read her riding book at night, and sometimes took out her horse, Feyquin, when it was dark to practice what she had read. Feyquin was the rowdiest stallion that she could persuade her parents to let her have, and seemed to get grumpier as time went on. Themma had chosen him for specifically this fact.

But sometime in her sixth or seventh year, Themma got a letter from her mother.

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Dear Themma, (it read)

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We are bringing you home early so as to find a suitable husband for you. Your father and I have found some nice men, but we need them to see you in person. I have bought some nice new dresses for you; they suit you so well! Darling, I know that one day you will make a very fine lady, and whomever you marry I will be happy for you.

Your Loving Mother,

Lady Karenne

Themma didn't panic. Too much. Dresses! She wore enough of them at the convent, and knowing her mother's sense of beauty, her "nice new dresses" were probably awful affairs with lots of pink and lace. But a husband? She was only seventeen! Of course Themma knew about all that rot, but usually young ladies went to court to find husbands. It was settled. They could scream and yell and pull, but she wasn't going to leave this bloody convent, however awful it was.

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I'm going to be nice. Five reviews until the next chapter. Fair? If nobody likes my stuff then I will keep trying different stories until I find something that everybody likes (rude songs don't count). 


	2. Suitors

OK, here's chapter two. Many thanks to the people who reviewed!! And for the people who didn't review… grr… Themma had some other name (you'll find out who she is in this chapter) then tell me and I'll change it somehow during the course of the story, I may have overlooked it. On we go...

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Themma's Escapades

Chapter 2: Suitors

A fortnight later, Themma was saying goodbye to her friends at the convent, settling for the long journey home.

***

The first suitor was easy. He was a man of maybe twenty-five, quite handsome, but Themma could see deep down he was a jerk. His name was Fatrond of Stone Mountain. Themma fashioned the most hideous illusion she could, but she made it so that only Fatrond could see it, not her parents. She first made ragged hair, even worse than the time Belle had cut her hair off while Them was sleeping. One eyelid drooped; horn-rimmed glasses fell down a pudgy, freckled nose. Crooked teeth accentuated a harelip; her fat hands blew kisses to her suitor. He left to go to the bathroom, and didn't come back.

The second suitor was in his thirties, not a bad man, but he was old enough to be her father. She gave herself the illusion of a little toy poodle, a very cute one at that.

"Aw, isn't she cute," he said. "Such sleek fur, and she looks up with such adoring eyes. You are lucky to own such a wonderful bitch."

This one was thrown out with the door slammed almost on his nose. Themma could barely hold back hysterical laughter. She had to run to her room, laughing so hard that she cried.

For the third suitor she made herself appear invisible.

"Yes," he said, "I'm sure she is a beautiful girl. Perhaps she is shy? Is she still in her rooms?"

Lady Karenne said with some annoyance, "She is sitting in the chair in front of you."

He laughed. "Yes, she is a beautiful maiden."

They spent an hour trying to get him to see her. Finally he left, accusing them of trying to make a fool out of him.

The fourth suitor was in his late twenties. He saw a young girl of maybe four or five walk up to him politely.

"Hello, little girl," he said. "Could you get me your big sister?"

"You mean Daria?" she asked.

"Themma."

"My name is Themma," she said.

The suitor looked a combination of fear and disgust, and ran out the door.

***

Suitors came and went, and Themma got rid of them one way or another. Finally her parents were completely mystified and furious that they couldn't get anyone to wed their pretty, well-bred daughter. Then came the Last Suitor. He was young, maybe nineteen or twenty. He was even stiffer than Mistress Dellings was, if that was possible. He looked as if his pants were starched. His name was Alan of Trebond. Themma did the usual ugly illusion, and made it her worst. This one may be hard to get rid of. He just smiled, and said

"I'm sure you'll make a lovely Lady of Trebond." and he signed the papers, sealing the betrothal.

In her fury, Themma's illusion disappeared. "You'll pay for this, Alan of Trebond," she said icily, knocking over her chair and storming out of the room, leaving a trail of illusion flame behind her. Alan just smiled, as if he knew this was going to happen all along.

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I know that was short, but I wanted to leave it right there. Now you know who she is, eh? Remember: five reviews or I won't write any more. I need to know, does anyone remember the names of Roger's parents? I need them for the next chapter, I can't do it without their names. If names are never mentioned, then just give me some Names From Nowhere. Thanks!


	3. Lady Trebond

Thank you for everyone's reviews. I am getting mega flames for Tortall's Twin part 2 and this makes me feel better. I am expecting more flames for that. For somebody who asked: Alan is not Alanna's twin brother, her twin's name is Thom. Her father's name is Alan. Hope that clears it up. PS, for clarification, the Roald mentioned is King Jonathan's father, not his son. This is like a long time ago, when Roald was maybe in his early twenties and as yet unmarried.

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Themma's Escapades

Chapter 3: Lady Trebond

Themma hated her life. She hated, hated, hated it. Her friends still sent letters; but it wasn't the same. Alan of Trebond was no doubt the most boring person in the world. All that Themma had left was the fifteen minutes before she got married. She savagely combed her bright orange curls, wishing she could to something, anything. But it was hopeless, she might as well be chained to the altar. Even her Gift couldn't help her now. Her Gift was fairly strong, but any time they talked about her getting formal teaching the conversation always seemed to wind up at the same spot.

"Ah, yes, a beautiful deep maroon color."

"No, it's more black."

"I'd say that it was a navy blue."

"Are you kidding? It's obviously a dark purple."

"You're all wrong. It's a deep green."

Nobody could ever agree on the color of her Gift, but Themma thought is was more a dark purple. Kind of maroonish. _Only natural, _she thought, _if nobody knows what color my Gift is, then of course I do illusions, because nobody really knows what they're seeing._ Themma then thought about the situation at hand. There had been special precautions taken; everyone knew about Themma's illusions, and not to pay attention if a flock of wyverns attacked, or if a spidren came a-calling. Suddenly Themma was walking up to her husband-to-be, with everyone watching to see how she reacted. She survived through the priest's reading, and heard when the lord of Trebond said, "I accept, for my son Alan of Trebond," she heard, and now it was her father's turn to speak. He licked his lips, watching the glares from both Themma and Lady Karenne. Abruptly Themma ran. She hiked up her skirts and ran, running away from the fate she did not ask for or want. The voice of her father echoed behind her…

"I accept, for my daughter, once of Mel Harbor, now Themma of Trebond."

Themma didn't know where she was running, she dimly remembered being caught and dragged kicking and screaming back to her husband, and slapped for her insolence. Then she knew that she was wrong. All her life she had been wrong. Life was not joy, or happiness, it was pain and suffering. She withdrew herself, accepting her fate.

***

"Yes, my Lord," she said, and put down her needlework. It was almost a year later, a year of living in shadow. She hated herself for doing this, and she hated everyone else because they were doing this to her. Her stitches were tight and even, her manners polished. She seemed to everyone a perfectly fine lady, and her eariler activities were forgotten. The only thing they ever thought strange of her was that she had no children. Themma had made herself an ankle charm so that she would not have children, she may have sunk into ladylike behavior but she would never, never have children. But in her head she tallied every remark, every curtsy, and added it to her store of revenge. One day she would escape. She had her horse, her still unfound sword, and her chain mail that she saved and kept polished. Themma had heard that the king was mustering an army for his conquering, and she would be the next soldier for his lines.

***

Roald of Conte looked out his window and breathed in the scent of early morning. Today he was to go with his father to the army camps, to witness a war firsthand. Tortall was a growing empire, conquering parts of Tusaine, Scanra, Galla for it's own. Now was the time when King Bardon looked to the Southern Desert for his country. There were harsh men there, with deep black eyes and the magic of the Desert, it was said. They were brutal fighters, and the King was having some trouble with them. 

Roald sighed and got dressed, going down to the Mess for his breakfast. Technically, he was a knight. Many thought he had only gotten that far because his father had helped him in some way, but he had gone through the Chamber of the Ordeal. Roald shuddered, thinking about that. Nobody considered him a real knight because he was so bad a fighting. Not like some. Sir Myles of Olau, just past the Ordeal, was better than him by far. And so was Sir Gareth of Naxen, now the King's Champion, Sir Blair of Tirragen, and many others that Roald was too depressed to name. He just wasn't cut out to be a great king or a general. His younger brother, Jerick, was a great fighter. He was the best squire in his class. Roald would rather spend his time poring over old tomes and books, not falling down and whacking things. 

***

Roald rode down south, as the climate got warmer and the plants sparser. Finally it gave way to rolling desert hills of sand, and the dry winds. They rode down to the main army base, a cluster of forts and tents, circled around the only city of the Bazhir, the desert tribesmen. 

"Why do they have only one city?" Roald asked.

His father snorted. "Some hogwash about guarding demons. They have some story about evil monsters calling away their children, so they built this place to guard them. See that black dot on the horizon?"

King Bardon pointed to a little speck that Roald could see if he squinted. "They call that the Black City, and they have some prophecy about the Night and the Day doing battle with the demons there. Absolute nonsense."

Roald was steered over to the camps where they would arrange their strategies. 

***

Crown Prince Roald looked at the surrounding desert, littered with the bodies of allies and foe. He thought of the families left without fathers, the widows his own father had made. He thought of the dead, stinking and bloated in the heat, all pointing fingers at him. _You… You killed us… Ussssss… We will take you to the Black God with us… Ussssss… _Roald thought of all that, and vomited what little he had eaten that afternoon into the bushes. Looking up, he saw a young soldier on a horse watching him. He looked away, hoping the soldier would not recognise him. The soldier dismounted, and walked over to him.

"If you think that I didn't see you, you're in for a surprise. But it's okay. I know what it feels like to think it's all your fault…" He trailed off.

Roald looked at the young man, with auburn hair cut short and a soft, husky voice. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Never mind. It's a long story. I already know you, you're Prince Roald." The boy smiled crookedly. "You can call me Thom."

Thom held out his hand, and Roald shook it. "Did you come with the rest of the recruits?" Thom nodded. 

"I came to get away from my father's fief. If I had stayed there a moment longer he would no doubt have married me off to some empty-headed noble lady."

Roald smiled. "I know the feeling. I'm betrothed to Princess Lianne of Galla, as part of those idiotic treaties. I haven't even met her before!" 

Thom grinned. This was the beginning of a friendship.

***

Themma was still nervous, but this Roald seemed to be nice, for all he was the heir to the Tortallan throne. She was still happy, even though her stiff and book-bound husband and her parents were probably scouring half the countryside for her. They would never think to look here, this far south! She smiled inwardly. _Try to get me to tat lace now!_

I hope that is good. That was probably the longest chapter or anything I have ever written. There will be maybe two more chapters, not too long. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed!


	4. Army Gal

I think I know what it takes to get lots of reviews.

* You need to have really long chapters
* You also need to take a really long time writing the chapters
* You also need to be around here for at least three months

  * It helps if you are a good writer.

My point is: review!! If it kills you, review!! I want that hits to reviews ratio to say 1 to 1!! Sigh. I hope people are listening…

Disclaimer: TP created most of the places and some of the people, they're all hers. The Swordsward I just really wanted to use as the name of a fief, and it is copyrighted to Alan Dean Foster (Spellsinger). 

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Themma's Escapades

Chapter 4: Army Gal

Themma was now a respected part of the army. She didn't like lying, but her logic was that nobody ever asked if she was a girl, so she wasn't lying. That thought kept her happy. Sometimes she asked herself if what she was doing was right, what was the point of conquering this land? What was there to gain except "glory" and more lost lives? Sometimes Roald half convinced her of all his morals. Roald was a shy, quiet person who would never really speak out against his father. But she shook him off; her joy of battle was too much to sacrifice for such things. She liked living on the edge. The only thing that troubled her was her was her old convent friends. What were they doing now? Was Belle married to some stuffy nobleman by now? Did Jereice really run away to the Court of the Rogue? Whatever was Stella doing now? Under all that was the constant fear that someone would find out she wasn't just another "one of the guys". The fear that the Lord of Trebond or her parents would find her, even this far south and bring her home. Where was home, anyhow? Themma had always thought of the convent as home. She could never go back there now.

Distracted by her thoughts, she didn't notice Roald sit down beside her, with a friend. Them was in the mess tent, contemplating over a plate of beans and bread.

"Hey Thom, meet my friend, Rich." Roald gestured to his tall companion. Rich smiled and sat down next to Roald. "He finally got away from his noble wife to come down "where the action is." 

Rich held out his hand, awkwardly, because Roald was sitting between them. "Sir Richard of Swordsward. That "noble wife" that Roald was referring to would be Belle of Henmann. Maybe you have heard of her?"

Themma nodded and inwardly smiled wryly. "Yeah, I think so. Her name rings a bell anyways." _So Belle did get a noble husband, _she thought, _how interesting for her._ Themma had met this Richard of Swordsward before, when Belle's parents had insisted she meet her possible future husband. Themma had put an illusion on his mirror, so that when he looked in it he saw the head of a giant, warty toad instead of his own handsome face. It hadn't helped that Jereice put a frog in his bed the night after. He had fled within three days, claiming the convent was haunted by amphibians. 

But Rich seemed like a nice guy and they quickly made friends. Then the unthinkable happened. Alan of Trebond, who could barely lift a sword, was drafted in to the army by his father. When Themma heard about the new boy in the troops, she nearly fainted. She was dead. Forget that, she was worse than dead. She thought of faking her death and running away to be a hermit in the forest; but that wasn't going to happen. Alan would be sure to recognise her, she was his wife, after all. After five minutes of panicked thoughts, Themma nearly slapped herself in the face. Duh! Her illusions! If Loozie couldn't construct deception illusion that only Alan could see, then no one could. It made her tired and cranky, but she fooled Alan with her altered voice and looks. That was about to change…

"Hey Alan!" Roald called. Alan turned around to smile at him. "Have you seen Thom? I haven't glimpsed his purple lamps all day."

Alan looked at Roald strangely. "What do you mean, Roald? His eyes are green."

"Well, I guess you could call them a very dark green, if you saw them that way." Roald replied.

"No," said Alan, "His eyes are light green. Pale."

"Pale? No way. Thom's eyes are almost black." Roald looked as if he was checking Alan's sanity.

"Lets find out…"

***

"Hey Thom!" Roald's yell made her jump two feet in the air. Worse, her illusion flickered. As Themma turned around, Alan got a glimpse of her face.

"Themma?" he whispered.

In her fear, all Themma's illusion dropped. Alan could see her bright red hair, her deep purple eyes. His own eyes widened.

"Mithros, Themma, what the hell are you trying to pull off?" his voice was slowly rising. "Disguising yourself as a boy and then putting up and illusion, day and night, trying to make me not know you? You're insane, Themma, insane!"

Roald looked confused. "Themma?"

Alan turned to Roald, furious. "This here is Themma of Trebond, my _wife._ That bitch ran away almost a bloody year ago only ten months after we got married. This _woman_ has been trying to keep up this charade and she _failed._" He turned to Themma. "Go back to your knitting, slut!" Fuming, he marched off, no doubt to tell the commander of Themma's secret. 

Roald looked at her. "You really are a girl?" Themma nodded. "Maybe I knew all along, and was just hiding it from myself. But Tho- Themma, I damn well wish you were'nt married."

Before Themma could do anything, Roald had pulled her to him and embraced her in a soft kiss. Then just as suddenly as he had kissed her, he walked away, Leaving Themma with enough inner turmoil to tie her intestines in knots.

***

Themma, in a billowy dress that she didn't really hate, held her bags and waved goodbye. Half the people hated her, but Rich and Roald were still her friends. And she left, back to her noble husband, away from the only man she had ever truly loved. But she knew it could never be.

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Soppy. That was soppy. But whatever. I'm doing one more, maybe two more chapters to this, so don't rejoice yet.


	5. Homecoming

Clarifications: this happens before Alanna, in the reign of Jon's grandfather, the conquerer. I don't know what her name really is so I'm just giving her anything. Sweet last chapter!

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Themma's Escapades

Chapter 5: Homecoming

Themma once again was stuck in the bloody sinkhole Trebond. But this time, she didn't hide her nature. Her family had gone too far. Oh, we couldn't bear the shame, they said. What had they done? They'd changed Themma's bloody name. Now she was "Lady Charyelle of Trebond." Bullshit. She would always be Themma of Mel Harbor, always. Never would she forgive her parents. The only reason she didn't commit suicide was frequent letters from her friends, particularly Roald's. If Alan ever saw Roald's letters, he would probably freak on the first sentence. So Alan never saw them.

But soon disaster struck. Unwittingly, Themma's ankle charm to ward away pregnancy broke while she and Alan preformed one of those four times a week tortures that Alan referred to as 'producing an heir.' After two weeks the fief healing woman happily pronounced her healthily pregnant. Themma had no idea what was good about the whole damned thing. It was horrible. Not only did her gods-be-damned parents keep fussing over her, Alan seemed to get this protectiveness that made him think she couldn't walk down a staircase alone. Suicide would be a welcome option, but no one would let her near so much as a butterknife. 

Her parents had gotten over their fury with her, but they still called her Charyelle, and legally that was her name, however much she disliked it. She spent most of her time in the tower room, reading or practicing her fencing. She had all her meals delivered up there, and almost never came down, since she wasn't allowed to go riding. Soon the villagers just accepted her as eccentric, and stopped muttering rumors.

When she finally was ready to bear her child, it was horrible. When it was finally born, she saw it was a boy and out of bitterness and rebellion, she named him Thom. She hoped he could never wield a sword, and that he would do something horrible, like become a great mage murder his father. But it wasn't over. She was having twins, and it was the second that killed her. A girl, almost exactly like her brother. Themma looked at Alan, the deep lines of worry in his face, and realized under all that stiffness, under all that prejudice, he truly loved her. She thought of all the horrible things she had done to him, how badly she had treated him. _One last faithfulness,_ she thought. _I'll do one last good._ With her dying breath, she named the child Alanna.

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How sweet, huh? R/R, everybody!


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